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Authors: Liz Schulte

Pickup Styx

BOOK: Pickup Styx
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By Liz Schulte

 

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Amazon Edition

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Pickup Styx

Book 3 in the Easy Bake Coven series

Copyright © 2013 by Liz Schulte

 

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Table of Contents

 

Map to Styx

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ember Sneak Peek

Acknowledgments

About the Author

 

 

 

 

 

 

I cracked my knuckles for the millionth time. I knew better than to make deals without knowing the cost—especially with hoodoo priestesses—but what choice did I have? I crossed and uncrossed my legs and smoothed my champagne silk-crepe dress.

Baker gave me a sympathetic smile before looking back toward the cemetery gates. We were perched on the concrete edge of a planter, waiting for someone— or
something
—to let me inside. It was impossible to ignore the dry stickiness of my mouth. I just wanted to go home.

“No matter what they want, do not agree to start tonight. Make sure you have time to plan,” Baker said for the fifth time, his lips barely moving.

Apparently, nerves were catching. I studied the profile of the ginger-haired shifter beside me. Baker’s nose had a slight notch in it, like he’d been in too many fights. Crease lines by his eyes hinted to his gregarious personality, and his full lips were set in an unnaturally serious line. I realized I didn’t really know much about Baker, other than he talked like he was plucked from a fast-talking ‘40s movie like
His Girl Friday
. “How old are you?”

The corner of Baker’s mouth twitched. “Next, you’re gonna ask me if I really look like this.”

“Do you?” Though I had no trouble remembering my past anymore, I’d never knowingly had any contact with a shifter, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in my life. They could be anything or anyone. Even someone I knew and had loved for decades. My heart clenched. Jaron’s name whispered through my mind like forbidden fruit. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about him. I couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to Cheney, and I had responsibilities. But the name was enough to trigger the memory. The image of life draining from Jaron’s eyes filled my mind. My breath caught, and I clenched my hands together. His eyes had never strayed from mine as I killed him. I could still feel the warmth of his body and the sensation of his blood pouring over my hands. I looked at my laced fingers like they were someone else’s. The stains of his blood weren’t visible, but they would always be there all the same. There had been a time when it was hard to tell where Jaron ended and I began. Now he was gone. Because of me.

No, no, no. Don’t fall apart now. You did what you had to do. It’s not your fault.
But the reasonable voice in my mind could no longer hold back the swell of emotion that had been ignored too long.

“Maybe someday, when I’ve known you longer than five seconds, I’ll tell ya—” Baker turned his whole body toward me. “Hey, doll. You okay? You don’t look so good.”

I blinked several times and dug my fingernails into my palms, trying not to feel the knife sinking into Jaron’s flesh or the scorching heat of his blood.
I swear. I had to.
The moaning creak of the gate swinging open by itself barely registered over the roar of my blood rushing through my veins.

Baker stood up and offered me his hand. “It’s time.”

His words flushed all thoughts from my head. Everything was quiet and time almost stopped as I looked at the hand waiting to lead me back into uncertainty. No time for a breakdown. I would think about Jaron later.

“Selene?”

“Yeah?” I took Baker’s strong hand and stood up, knees wobbling. When I was steady enough, he let me go and nodded toward the gate. I took a couple steps, but Baker didn’t follow. “Aren’t you coming?”

He shook his head. “This is one walk you have to take alone.”

I blew out a long breath and glanced back at the wrought iron gate. Its scrolling pattern slithered as if alive. I shook my head and closed my eyes—not possible. But even on my second look, the gate was fluid as if the iron had turned to liquid and was pumping through unseen veins. “Are you kidding?” I asked Baker. Hell no, I wasn’t going in there alone. The last time I came out of that cemetery, something had pulled at me, tried to hold me—only barely failing to stop me from leaving. And even then the gate hadn’t appeared to be alive. The energy in the air made the hair on my arms stand. My skin crawled with invisible bugs.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules. I can’t set foot in there tonight.” He nudged me forward. “Don’t miss your window or what they want will be worse. I’ll be here when you get out.”

I walked through the gate, glancing behind me once. “If I don’t come back, tell Cheney—” The words stuck in my throat. Tell him what exactly? That I love him? To remember me? To come and get me the hell out of here? I shook my head. “Just tell him I’m sorry.”
Sorry
—it seemed like such a paltry word considering everything I had put him through. I would make it up to him someday, starting with this. I steeled my spine and moved deeper into the shadows. The atmosphere amid the various tombstones and long-forgotten grave markers was thick with more than humidity. Walking through it took concentration. It split around me like I was traveling through water. Strands of my hair were lifted and tugged, sending cascades of goose bumps over my flesh. The occasional brush of unseen fingers against my neck, legs, and arms made me itch to turn around and run back to the gates, but I trudged forward, holding my breath. When Antoinette was in sight, it took all I had not to cry out and fling myself into her arms.

Standing in front of a mausoleum, hands on her hips, she watched my approach. I forced my gait to remain slow and steady. I lifted my chin toward the sky. I was the Queen of the Fae—deserved or not. A little walk in a human cemetery wasn’t going to undo me.

When I was a few feet away from her, Antoinette half-heartedly waved a hand. “Hush.” Everything unseen surrounding me vanished. “They like you, little witch. Perhaps they sense your power.” She raised an eyebrow over her milky white eyes. “Perhaps they want to keep you.”

“That’s not an option.” I squared my shoulders, but my hands shook. I would’ve given almost anything to get out of the place once and for all.

“You promised to pay any price they deemed worthy. You received their gifts and you broke the curse that weighed on you. If they choose to keep you, you will have only one choice: to comply or forfeit your life. Those were the agreed-upon terms, were they not?” One side of Antoinette’s mouth lifted, and she stepped to the side of the partially opened door. “The souls you moved through to get here belong to those who didn’t comply.”

I swallowed hard and stepped into the crypt. “You forget, priestess. I’m half elf. I can see ghosts. There were none.”

Her laughter boomed through the silent night. “Who said anything about ghosts? I said souls. It’s the souls of those who cannot pay the price that give this place power. The spirits feed on that power. Sit.”

A single metal chair sat in the center of the room. I let out a slow breath and lowered myself to the edge of the seat. A shriek came from outside, making all my muscles clench. I jumped, and a blast of telekinetic mojo escaped from my mind. A loud crack came from my right, and a shower of bones and stone clattered against the floor. I kept my eye trained on Antoinette, ignoring the chasm I’d accidentally opened in the tomb. My emotions were running too high. I had to relax or the whole room would crumble around us.

“You are a powerful one.” Her bony finger traced the air around me as she thoughtfully studied me with her blind eyes. “Are you prepared to learn your fate?”

BOOK: Pickup Styx
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